


Cross His Throat and Make Him Cry

by Leticheecopae



Series: Lusting after Love [2]
Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Asphyxiation via a slit throat, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Dominant Masochism, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, NO DEATHS, NSFW, Rough Sex, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: Todd's been to hell before, not for anything he's done, but because his best friend sometimes needs someone there to help pass the time. They've never been alone there, though, not really, what with El Diablo waiting in the wings. But now he's on vacation, his son is in charge, and Pepito has a way of coaxing things out of Todd that he tries his best to pretend don't exist. But Todd can't commit a sin in hell. The souls there are already damned, and he can't be penalized for torturing a damned soul in hell, right?At least that's what Pepito always tells him, what Pepito wants, because he's technically damned, and he's oh so ready to see just what kind of sensual tortures Todd can come up with for him.(All characters depicted are over the age of 18.)





	Cross His Throat and Make Him Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KukkiisArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KukkiisArt/gifts).



> Written as a commission for the lovely Kukkii/Irkenenthusist over on Tumblr. Been a while since I got to get down and dirty with the gore smut. Have to admit, I have missed getting to go a tad off the rails.

Being around El Diablo will always be strange for Todd. No matter how often he see’s Pepito’s father with a skull and ram horns, he’ll never be used to it. Not because of how he looks -he’s seen weirder crap throughout his life- but because of the sheer demand of respect his presence brings. 

“And then in here, we have where we bring the lustful and all that.” The room is filled with contraptions that make Todd’s throat feel tight. They are perversions of things people would use in real life, only a lot of them have spikes, or razor wire, or all sorts of stuff on them that would take all of the ‘pleasure’ out of their use.

“Papaaaa, I know all this,” Pepito whines. Todd tries not to smile. Even in his twenties, Pepito still acts like a petulant child around his father. Not that he really is, usually, but because Pepito knows it drives his father insane. Todd knows it, El Diablo knows it, and Pepito isn’t going to give it up anytime soon, Todd’s sure about that.

“I know you know,” El Diablo replies. “But while you’re down here with him, I want him to hear it from _me_ before you go around twisting my words like you are so inclined to do.”

“Hey, I learned from the best.”

“Thank you, son.”

“Wasn’t talking about you.”

“Don’t talk about your mother that way.” El Diablo fixes Pepito with a gaze that would probably have Todd shrinking. Pepito just grins.

“Juan.” Todd turns to find Pepito’s mother in the doorway. She’s in a white sundress, light hair falling around her like a halo, and a large brimmed hat. “Are we leaving soon? I don’t want to miss climbing the gangway.”

“Almost. And don’t worry, amor, it is not yet tomorrow up top.” El Diablo gives her a gentle look with his not quite eyes. Todd’s still not sure what they are. There is a darkness that is something akin to an eyelid, but the actual sockets are filled with...light? Fire? He’s not sure because he’s never been that close to his face, which is fine by him. 

“Alright.” She walks in, a bag on her arm. “These are for you, dear.” She hands the bag over to Todd. “I know how hungry you can get down here, what with all of this temporal shifting and all, but these should help.” 

Todd opens the bag and finds sugar cookies in the shapes of crosses, a few bottles of water, sandwiches and fruits wrapped in cold packs, and a smiley face note.

“Thank you, Mary,” Todd says with a smile. He hasn't called either of Pepito’s parent’s by any form of title in years. He had accidentally called Mary Mom once. She had chuckled and patted his shoulder, even if it was well above her head.

Mary goes on tiptoe, and Todd stoops so she can peck him on the cheek. He smiles at her as she moves towards Pepito.

“Thanks, Mom,” Pepito adds as she comes over. Her offers her his cheek before she even leans in to peck it. They are about the same height, Pepito’s horns the only thing giving him any leverage over her. 

“Now, no deals while we’re gone,” she tells him, voice serious.

“But Moooom.” Pepito looks up at his father.

“If someone wants to sell their soul to Pepito then-”

“Then he can wait until we get back. I don’t want him making deals on your behalf while we’re gone.”

“What about on my behalf?” Pepito grumbles.

Juan raises a brow at Mary. “Do you think you’re ready for that?” she asks him.

“I’ve had hellhounds; I can deal with a soul.”

Mary thinks on that a moment. “No deals,” she finally says and smooches his cheek once more. “People aren’t hell-hounds honey. They have more needs and actual sins, according to your father.”

“This is bullshit.”

She gently raps his horn with her knuckles. “Language.”

Todd tries not to smirk but doesn’t quite make it. Pepito gives him a slight glare.

“Anyways, I believe that’s all of the rooms,” El Diablo interjects. “There are very few corporal punishments to be dealt out while we’re gone. Most of my underlings will be dealing with them, though Pepito will have a few to complete.” El Diablo comes over to Todd. “Thank you again for keeping him company while we’re away. You know how he gets when he’s board.”

“Estoy aquí, papá,” Pepito grumbles.

El Diablo gives Todd a smile before patting his shoulder. Fear and terror sizzle down his side, but in a comfortable fatherly way. He can tell that the pain the terror promises are not for him, but for anyone else who tries to hurt him. El Diablo then goes over to Pepito.

“And you,” he says. “I know you’ll make me proud, even if you do decide to overrule everything I’ve told you.”

“Hey, already told you, learned from the best.”

“Thank you, dear,” Mary says as El Diablo rolls his not quite eyes before stooping down and hugging his son. For all his petulance, Pepito has no problem giving his dad a tight hug. 

“Everything is in order then.” He turns to Mary. “Shall we go?” With a snap the horns melt away, his skull shrinks, and he is suddenly nothing more than a golden-skinned businessman with thinning, dark hair.

Mary took the arm given to her and waved over her shoulder.

“Be good! You know how to reach us!”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t use the summoning circle unless he actually needs to,” Todd calls as they head to the door that separates Hell from Earth.

“You’re no fun,” Pepito grumbles just before the door closes. As soon as it does, Todd finds hands on his waist. “But I know what _is_ fun.” His hands tug at Todd’s shorts -who would wear jeans in hell, the heat and humidity is awful- and Todd feels his face warm.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get settled first?” His parents could still come back for Christ sake!

“Come on; I saw how you looked at the room.” Pepito’s mouth is against Todd’s shoulder blade, his hands gripping his hips. “I told you we’d have some fun down here, so why put it off?”

“Because patience is a virtue?” Todd tries. His voice is a tad strangled. There are knives in their, needles, and straps. So many straps.

“This doesn’t feel very patient.” Pepito pushes his hand into Todd’s crotch. Todd drops the bag without meaning to, though it doesn’t fall. Pepito makes a humming sound and it drifts away as he starts pulling Todd back. 

“Come on,” he murmurs. “I know there’s something lurking in the back of that pretty little head of yours. Wants to cut me up and see what's ticking inside.”

“But I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Todd murmurs. 

“Could go get a soul for you.”

“N-no! I meant I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone!” 

“Shhh,” Pepito says as he pulls back just a little. His hands release Todd’s hips for only a moment before they’re back and he spins Todd around. He’s sitting on one of the weird contraptions, a large wooden table. The straps that dangle could be used to keep someone still or pull them apart if the wheels connected to them mean anything. 

“Come on,” Pepito says, pulling Todd in so he can nip at his exposed collarbone. “We’re in hell. Let a little demon out.” He bites, actually bites, and Todd gives a gasp. It’s harsher than the cuts he dreams about —the ones delivered by a friendly neighbor in his dream— more deliberate, and it aches warmly in his flesh instead of the cold glide of steel. 

Pepito laps at the blood and groans. “I can taste it, Todd.” His voice aches with pleasure as if Todd’s blood is all he needs on his split tongues. “Lujuria de sangre. Let me feed it.” His tongue splits along the bite, circling it, and Todd shudders. His hands dig hard into Pepito’s sides, harder than he would usually mean to, and the _moan_ Pepito lets out echoes in his head beautifully.

“Pepito, I-”

“Can’t hurt me down here,” Pepito says as he pulls Todd forward so that their groins press together. “At least, not permanently.”

Todd’s hands flex again, dig into Pepito’s ribs, and he knows if he presses a little harder he can snap one. It would just be a simple application of force. Push him down, push near the curve of the rib, lean and lean until he felt it give between his fingers before they would slip into the smallest indent, and then-

At first, he thinks the sound he hears may be an escaped hellhound, but it only takes a few seconds to realize the sound is coming out of _his_ mouth. A deep, low tone that hangs in his chest and tingles over his tongue. 

“I want to taste _that_.” Pepito jerks Todd’s head down, hand none too gently in his hair, and presses their mouths together. Pepito opens his mouth slightly, and Todd accepts the teeth that click against his lips and feels pinpoints of blood where they catch. He pulls Pepito’s lip into his mouth. He means to only suck, maybe nibble, but his teeth come down harder than he meant -at least consciously- and the thin skin inside Pepito’s mouth splits. 

Blood, tar-like and warm spreads over Todd’s tongue. It is heady, with a strong taste of copper that accents the savory heat and spice that Pepito’s demon blood holds. He sucks at it, listens to Pepito groan, pant, and then whimper as he pulses his teeth down into the cut.

Todd forces himself to let go and pull back. He can still taste Pepito, and fuck he wants that again. Wants to shove Pepito down and lap the blood and whimpers out of him. He finds Pepito with half opened eyes, his lower lip swelling, and a streak of blood covering his lips.

“Come on, Todd,” he pants up at him. “If we keep at this eye for an eye shit we’ll be here all night.” Todd feels the bite on his chest throb in response.

“I know you want to do more than just that.” Pepito snaps his fingers and a knife cartwheels to them and hangs in the air. “Why don’t you give me a taste of what you would have that maníaco homicida do to you if he could.”

Todd’s stomach flips. 

He watches Pepito swallow the blood still welling up thickly in his mouth.

 _’I can’t really hurt him,’_ he finds himself thinking. _’Anything I do he can heal. Anything at all.’_ His hands ache to feel a knife's hilt in them more than his cock aches to sheath itself inside something warm. He takes the knife out of the air, and it feels perfect in his palm.

“Going to need more than that.” Todd’s voice comes out gravelly, Pepito’s blood thick and lovely in his throat.

“Oooo, what are you going to do?” He snaps again, and a whole cart of knives comes forward. Small, long, sharp, cruel, and some blunted and serrated. Pepito doesn’t look away from Todd as he smiles. “You going to crucify me?” Pepito lets out a little laugh as he throws himself back on the table. It isn’t in the shape of a cross, the whole thing nothing but rough wood with the heads of nails poking out in places. But Pepito spreads his arms as if waiting for a nail, palms up, fingers out.

The hilt feels so damn good against Todd’s fingers as he brings it straight down into Pepito’s wrist.

The cry comes out as a surprised shout. Pepito tries to rip his arm upwards, but Todd keeps a tight grip on the hilt, heart hammering as Pepito groans and writhes for a moment. Then he falls back and gives an airy laugh. 

“Bueno,” he pants. “Bueno, Todd. No pienses, sólo hazlo.”

Todd picks up another knife and looks at it, then Pepito. He has his other wrist up and ready for Todd, making him into a blasphemous cross upon the torture table. Todd walks around him, eyes never leaving his face; his brow is sweaty, eyes lidded, and his lip is plump with blood that is filling his wound. _Todd’s_ wound.

Todd picks up Pepito’s hand and presses his mouth to the wrist. Pepito groans as Todd pushes his teeth into, scratching them over his tendons, and then sucks. Pepito arches off the table as his pulse point is pulled between Todd’s teeth. He threatens to break it, to rip into the flesh himself, but if being a butcher has taught Todd anything its that knives are always hungry. He’s already made the first bite after all. Time to let these knives have a few as well.

Swiftly, he pins the hand down, pulls the arm out, stretching Pepito’s upper body with a jerk, and shoves the knife in. Pepito cries out again, body arching, and Todd watches the blood well up and drip. It’s not like human blood, much too thick, much too dark, but it’s still beautiful on Pepito’s pale flesh. 

“Todd, please, no puedo soportarlo, more.”

Todd moves slowly, walking around the table, hands holding two more knives. They are sharp and slightly curved. Pepito’s eyes follow him, his breath coming out hot and smokey each time he pants. Todd drags the tip of one knife over Pepito’s sternum, down towards his groin. It catches on his clothing, leaving little holes here and there. Pepito’s cock is a hard outline in his tight jeans. 

“This looks painful,” Todd murmurs as he taps the knife against it. Pepito gasps, body arching up towards the sharp blade. The smile on Todd’s face feels like something out of a nightmare, but he keeps it. What he’s doing is what nightmares are made of, after all, at least his. 

The curved blade carves a thin line into Pepito’s hip as it slides beneath the denim. Todd lifts the blade up and pulls. The denim splits as easily as skin, the knife chewing through it as if it were nothing but candy floss. Near the ankle, he gives a little jerk to make it cut through the cuff, but it does.

Pepito has nothing on beneath the jeans.

“How long have you been planning this?” Todd asks, his knife gentle as it disappeared under the flap of fabric that hides Pepito’s groin.

“Too long,” he pants. 

Todd presses gently into Pepito’s cock, not enough to cut, but he watches the discomfort cross Pepito’s face. It sends his insides stirring as he pulls the knife back before shredding the other leg of Pepito’s jeans. It again falls to the side, and he tosses the fabric away. He leaves Pepito’s ankle boots on. He likes the buckles on the sides.

His eyes look up at the body before him and Pepito’s legs spread for Todd, showing the dark swell of his cock and balls between his pale thighs. 

Todd ignores it. There’s not enough skin showing yet.

Todd climbs between Pepito’s thighs and has the curved blades slide into Pepito’s shirt at opposite ends. One at his belly, the other at his throat. Todd moves them towards one another, careful of Pepito’s skin. He wants to see it unmarked first. 

As the blades make the fabric bunch, Todd jerks, and it tears the fabric apart. Two more swift movements and the sleeves are gone as well. 

“Satanás me ayude creo que estoy enamorado.” Pepito’s words are a soft groan that makes Todd smile. His Spanish may not be the best, but he catches most of it. 

Todd pierces the wood on either side of Pepito’s head, making the demon jump. Vibrant flames open to look at him. He can’t call Pepito’s eyes red anymore; they are so much more than that. They are windows into the furnace that he has become; the smoke that pants from his mouth a clear sign of just how ‘hot’ he really is.

With a smirk, Todd removes his shirt, slowly, so that Pepito can drag his eyes over him. He knows he’s not bad looking, at least usually. There are still days he looks into the mirror and sees nothing but his scars and the face of a scared little boy, but that little boy isn’t here right now. There is no fear in him as he watches Pepito’s eyes rake over his chest to his groin. He gets off the table just long enough to toe off his sandals and shove off his shorts and boxers. 

Pepito is saying some sort of demonic prayer in Spanish under his breath. What it is, Todd isn’t sure, but it’s lovely to hear his gasps and pants in between the words. 

Here, between Pepito’s thighs, he finally pauses. Lube. They have no lube.

“Todd,” Pepito pants, eyes begging. His hands curl into fists as he tries to lift himself and gain some sort of friction from Todd. 

“Do you still like it rough?” Todd asks. He pulls one knife from the table. 

“Dios mío, sí,” Pepito pants.

Todd smirks and draws the knife over his own palm. Blood springs forwards before he slicks his cock up with it. His blood feels so hot outside his own skin, and while it doesn’t hold a flame to Pepito’s body temperature, he hopes that Pepito will enjoy it.

He leans forward, arranging Pepito’s legs so they are thrown over his thighs, and pushes his red-slicked dick against Pepito’s hole. There is resistance, quite a bit, and Pepito lets out gasps and cries as he body thrashes. Todd grips his hips tight, forcing them still as he keeps pressing. The blood helps the glide, and Todd lets out a groan as he feels the resistance break and he suddenly slides almost entirely inside.

Pepito wails in a way he’s never heard. If it weren’t for the fact that Pepito is trying to grind down at the dick inside him, he’d be worried.

“Oh mierda, oh dios, sí, más, Todd, má-”

He’s not sure where the idea comes from because fuck if he even knows anymore, but the knife slides over Pepito’s throat in a quick arc. Blood sprays over them both, vocal cords split, and Pepito’s eyes roll into his head.

“Shhhh,” Todd says over the gurgles as his hips start to piston. He leans down and feels blood splatter on his chest, the artery pumping out the thick stuff with each frantic beat. “Don’t want anyone to find us.”

Pepito’s insides are almost unpleasantly hot, but Todd doesn’t care. He starts to move, first slowly so that the body around him isn’t _too_ tight, and then he begins to stab himself forwards. He uses one hand to push one of Pepito’s legs over his shoulder, his knees digging into the wood of the table, and he can feel the splinters. Tiny pinpricks of pain that make him go faster.

Pepito’s mouth opens and closes, and Todd leans forward, forcing the leg back in a way that would snap someone’s tendon. In fact, he thinks he hears the sharp sound of it doing so, but he can’t be sure over the sounds that Pepito is trying to make, and his own harsh breaths.

He grips one of Pepito’s horns and jerks his head up high enough that he can kiss him. Blood fills his senses again: the taste, the texture, the smell. He groans into the mouth that holds double tongues. They tangle with his own tongue; panicked little things as Pepito’s body tries to pull in air.

Todd’s hips snap forward harder, jerking Pepito under him as he keeps moving. His bloody hand wraps around Pepito’s cock.

If Pepito could still cry out, he’s sure the sound would fill the entire room as he jerks him in his slick hand. The split flesh opens with each tug, allowing fresh blood to slide over Pepito’s cock and pain to ache in Todd's palm.

“Almost,” Todd pants against Pepito’s mouth. “Come on, Pepito. Be good for me. Por favor se bueno.” 

Pepito’s eyes roll back, smoke billowing out of his slit throat, mouth, nostrils, and tangles around them. Todd kisses him, lets the ashes of Pepito’s inside line his tongue and throat as he groans. He feels hot spunk against his hand, shooting between their bellies, and it _burns_. Burns, unlike anything he has felt so far.

The searing sting skitters through him, mixes with the please in his groin and pain in his palm, and he cums. Cums with his hips flush to Pepito’s ass and his tongue lapping ash and blood from Pepito’s panting mouth. He shudders with it, lets it cut through him and sing through his scars, splinters, and the slice in his hand. 

When air becomes an absolute necessity, he finally pulls back, panting as he looks down at Pepito’s ruined throat.

Fear flashes through him as he looks at Pepito’s half closed, distant eyes.

“Pepito.” His voice is rough and dry from the smoke. Todd finds himself having to cough a little. The eyes don’t move. 

Fear slithers in his guts as he slides out as gently as he can. Pepito’s lower body jerks slightly.

“P-Pepito, I need you to look at me.” 

To his relief, those eyes turn to him.

“Are you okay?” He leans over and pulls one of the knives from Pepito’s flesh.

Pepito’s head nods slightly, and Todd can see the blood around the slash in Pepito’s neck bubble.

“Do you need anything?” The second knife comes out as well, and he gently sets them, and the other two, over on the knife table.

“Agua.” It comes out airy; his voice is hoarse as the vocal cords knit back together.

Todd almost vaults off the table as he goes to the bag just outside the room. He pulls out a water bottle and dashes back in. The cuts in Pepito’s wrists are disappearing rapidly along with the cut in his neck. 

“Here,” Todd says gently as he lifts Pepito’s head with his good hand. He feeds him the water slowly, watches some of it comes out of the shrinking slice in his throat, and pulls back when Pepito chokes a little. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” Todd murmurs as he rubs at Pepito’s skull with his thumb.

“I know,” he murmurs, voice a tad more distinct. He takes a few deep breathes and opens his mouth for more water. Todd gives it to him.

Todd keeps rubbing the soft circles into his scalp and feeding him water until Pepito moves his face away from it.

“Damn,” Pepito whispers before looking up at him.

“W-was that okay?”

“Okay?” Pepito asks with a smile. “Amor, fue perfecto.”

Todd’s cheeks go hot, hotter than he thought possible. 

Pepito looks at him with half-lidded, but confused eyes.

“Amor?” he asks gently.

Pepito’s cheeks blaze with what little blood can reach them. “Y-Yo...” Pepito snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide.

Todd smiles and slides his arms under Pepito. “Come on, _amor_ ,” he says gently. He watches smoke trickle out of Pepito’s nose. “Let’s go shower.” Pepito sags against him as he lifts him, his face pressed into Todd’s chest. He mumbles something that Todd can’t quite hear as Todd walks them into the main room and towards the door that will take them wherever they want.

**Author's Note:**

> My Spanish is super rusty, but I hope I did alright here and that you all enjoyed it!


End file.
